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Visions of dead people
Flight instinct kicking in Stick around, source within Skin thin Bones seen beneath Inching obscenely In the fingers, at the cheek Even during sleep Creaking, squeaky greasing easy The wheel of a bike careening Spinning long after a car hit its driver head on Haunted by dead cyclists, suffering infringements At vision’s fringes, their boldness…
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River rider who neither
Slim sliver, arrested development Silver as a slim elver slithering upriver Bound for a rendezvous with the salmon Salar Ballard how I protest the charge that I’m not a Child of God In a rush, shoal don’t slow, eager to reach the nursery Like a breached levee how quickly they uplevel Starting tiny but by…
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Rising ice age
More mistresses than the busy river has fishers More bitches than the ice caps have fissures And inuits getting fingered in igloos, har-poon Made friends with a walrus, use his tusks to open tins Land of frost, black toes the cost, smell of rot Neverhot sun blinding, everwinter ragnarok reminding So cold even my mind…
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Maligning annals
You call me unready, I say ill-advised My council are the one’s unwise Yet history untiring cites my ripeness And inaptitude for the primacy Those maligning annals On illuminate vellum Whose margins sport animals.
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And out come the sharks
Planks come loose from the trireme’s flank Like a flooded arena on the Emperor’s birth night Flaming men jump over the side and into the sea Bodies which sank the same regardless of rank Are set upon by shank-jawed blood magnets Magnates of the brine planet, baleful magistrates Whose every gavel check is a pronouncement…
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Alchemisland 